Order Undone
by southern cross
Summary: The old rules were broken, the new ones confusing, and he was keeping up only with the help of a learning curve. Pre S2 E13


I own nothing and mean no harm. Please review.

Order had to be restored. Too many hours, too many minutes he was spending thinking about her, him, and them. It wasn't right, it wasn't smart, and it wasn't anything he knew how to stop.

There had been little things at first. Smiles and glances. She was always there, always quick with a look, forever understanding. And that was what had gotten to him at first; the complete and total lack of judgment. If he had run screaming through the house waving the shower curtain she would only have cocked her head just so and asked why.

Never with a roll of the eyes, or a glare, or a tightening of the jaw, and fuck, how had he craved that? There were always eyes on him these days. Mom, Derek, hell even Riley had begun to follow him around the room, her eyes asking questions in a language she shouldn't know.

That kind of freedom was like a drug to a man with so very little in the way of social liberties. He tried not to think to hard about the morality of it, the ethics. There were valid arguments to be heard pro and con; God forbid his Mother find out or there would be no end to the hysterics.

Lately her actions and activities had become, unsettling; there were other more damaging words that he didn't want to actively consider. Where Cameron was his freedom, his Mom was his home, his rock, his base, and without her, he wasn't sure he would make it past tomorrow.

But then that was a lie wasn't it. An over dramatic, but pretty set of words. If everyone in the house turned to ash he would suck it up and move on. It was his fate, his destiny, so why would he fight it. Why would any one fight the small glimmer of light in a too dark world?

Not him.

Not anymore.

The first time he had agreed with her, that he would sever ties with Riley, she had stared at him, stunned, and he had savored the speechless look. Riley had been beautiful in her own way, a part of his teenage brain had acknowledged her attraction, had been drawn to her body and her tilted world view. Unfortunately a bigger part of the man he was to become had recoiled against her touch and flinched at the taste of her tongue.

Too long he had ignored that part of him.

Not anymore.

Not him.

That part had called out for another touch, another taste and that first night, after he had stunned her speechless, he had indulged. Twisting their breaths, hers extravagant, his necessary, and the rush of desire melted away the last of the objections.

Desire, lust, and want, he had felt it all and more. More and more and more, that was what he wanted, what he had demanded, with fingers and lips and whispers and she had been only to happy to comply.

Over and over he had asked for permission, the part of him that was not yet a man had demanded that and over and over she had acquiesced. Her body had melted beneath his touch, had responded, and reacted, had come alive until he was drunk on the juices pooling between her thighs.

The pleasure had been unlike nothing he had ever known, and afterward he had come to an understanding, a small glimmer of knowledge of why the human race deserved to live. As much as there was a proclivity for pain among them, there was an even bigger hope of creation if their bodies could respond, could produce such pleasure; and if it had taken a satin covered bit of metal than so be it.

There were no apologies in him. Not when the days since he last spoke to Riley were no longer counted off, not when he counted away the minutes until his Mother and Derek left to track down more blood tinted leads; leaving the house theirs.

Why would he apologize when her small hands, seemingly made for his cock alone, were tugging at his jeans, freeing his aching erection? Why would there be apologies when her breasts fit so perfectly in his hands?

Why?

Why?

Fuck. Why?

The plot was lost, buried balls deep in her impossibly warm cunt he hardly recall his name; was reminded of it on her exhale 'John'. He was her John, she was his Cameron and there were no more answers to be found, no more questions to be asked.

The order was new; a scary and vibrant thing that gave him a slip of hope.


End file.
